


Debriefings

by kat8cha



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-10
Updated: 2011-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat8cha/pseuds/kat8cha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Coulson debriefed Barton and Romanoff and 1 time where he himself was debriefed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Debriefings

**Author's Note:**

> I started this all the way back in October for pr0ntober but I started pr0ntober late and I couldn't get a handle on where I wanted this to go. SADLY, no porn, but there's implications.

They first time they do this they're standing in a sea of destruction and incapacitated Hydra supporters, Natasha and Clint are covered in a variety of unmentionable substances, the tamest being blood (some their own) and soot. Neither is a member of SHIELD (then still the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division) when it happens, Natasha is working for the Russian government, their most secret 'secret agent' and Clint is a closely kept (but widely known) secret on the mercenary circuit. Coulson, however, is a member of SHIELD, one of Director Fury's personal picks. It's why he's woken up at 3:26 with Fury's voice on the line telling him to 'get down to the waterfront I want those two recruited _yesterday_.'

One of these days SHIELD is going to recruit someone who can build a time machine and then things _are_ going to get done yesterday. It's a scary thought.

When Coulson arrives at the waterfront he's not surprised to find the warehouse a smoldering ruin. The few still breathing members of Hydra are being carried out to some ambulances. Coulson checks with the drivers first to see where they're headed and, secure with the knowledge they're heading to one of SHIELD's secure hospitals, he enters the smoking ruin that used to be a Hydra base.

The air is flavored with smoke and the tang of burnt human flesh with an underlying acrid scent that screams 'explosives'. Coulson picks his way around the dead bodies and the bustling agents and heads towards the eye of the storm, a circle of SHIELD agents with large guns that are all pointed at two people. He is not sure what he expected to see (he read the file that was handed to him in the car, of course, but it was woefully short on details and definitely contained no pictures) but Romanoff and Barton standing side by side chatting was not it. Both hold their hands up and out, the universal sign for 'I am not armed', but that's the only compromise they make to their situation. They're smiling and talking and Barton says something which makes Romanoff tip her head back and laugh.

They're both young.

It's hard to judge their ages from their faces or their bodies. Both have young faces, both have bodies that have lived hard lives, Barton is handsome, a quirky kind of handsome, and Romanoff is classically beautiful. Neither of them seems to be the kind of person one would expect to find in the middle of a ring of guns surrounded by a sea of dead and dying. Coulson nudges one agent to the side and flashes his credentials before he steps into the ring of fire. That's when Barton and Romanoff turn to look at him, that's when he sees their eyes and that's when he determines that they are _exactly_ the kind of people you expect to find surrounded by dead bodies.

He's just surprised they stuck around to explain their actions, is all.

"I'm Agent Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division-"

"What a mouthful." Romanoff murmurs to Barton.

"-and I'm here to debrief you."

"I bet." Barton murmurs back to Romanoff. They both smile at each other; Coulson can see their partnership forming already. Before tonight neither had even pulled a job on the same continent at the same time as the other person but whatever happened has bonded the two of them. In his report Coulson will make a note to Fury that he shouldn't separate the two, at least not immediately.

"If we can please proceed."

\--

"Let me get this straight." Barton was injured again. Superficial injuries marred his face, there was a bruise across his knuckles and when he had walked into the office he had ever-so-slightly favored his left leg. Coulson was sure that more serious injuries were hidden underneath his shirt. Romanoff, in contrast, wore one bruise blooming across her face. Immediately after this debrief he was sending them straight to the medical unit and watching their progress on the closed circuit cameras until they were safely ensconced in white walls and a medical staff that was used to difficult patients. The staff was trained, after all, to handle Director Fury.

Barton groaned and then grunted when Romanoff's sharp elbow impacted with his ribs. "We need to go over it _again_?"

Coulson glanced down at his careful penmanship and then up at Barton. Had he been a schoolmarm he would have stared at Barton over the top of his glasses. "Yes." Barton's inner child must have been around eight because though he was quelled he slumped down in his seat and muttered things under his breath.

"Now, at 1600 hours you were in place for extraction," both agents nodded, "Black Widow was concluding her undercover work, Hawkeye was in his nest," another nod from both, "at 1635 Black Widow began to bring the target out of Miller and Son," Barton started to frown, "and the door to Hawkeye's room was kicked in."

"I told you that." Barton protested, Black Widow slid her eyes in his direction and then she kicked him in the shin. There was a wince that was one twitch away from a flinch and had Coulson frowning. "And I told you what happened next!"

"Yes, you did." That Barton had taken down two of the men before he was overwhelmed, that they had been enhanced with something and had thrown Barton out the window. "You shot two high in the chest before you were overwhelmed and defenestrated."

"Whoa." Barton straightened up in his seat. "I was what? That sounds a lot more intimate than what I remember happening."

Romanoff stifled a snicker but the twitch of her lips was impossible to hide. Barton leveled puppy eyes at her, the kind of look Coulson would never imagine _would_ work on Romanoff (although Coulson had not been able to pull off an acceptable puppy eye since he was 5 years old) but the twitching smirk turned into a smile. "It means to be tossed out a window."

There was a pause before Barton made an explosive motion. For a man who could lie motionless behind a gun in a dark room for days, Barton often moved with a restless energy that seemed impossible to cage. Romanoff reached out to catch his hand and curled her fingers through his. Where Barton was explosive energy the Black Widow was cool, calm, and contained, every movement she made was deliberate.

Most of the time, every movement she made was sensual. Coulson had seen more than one SHIELD agent walk right into a wall because they had followed Natasha Romanoff down an alley. When Romanoff took lunch the mess hall filled to the brim even though watching someone eat the way Romanoff ate (with deadly and sometimes brutal efficiency) should not be sexy.

"Why couldn't he have just said tossed out a window?" Coulson snapped back to himself and snapped his eyes back down onto the paperwork. Hopefully neither agent had noticed that lapse in willpower.

"I have a word quota for these documents that I try not to go over."

Barton and Romanoff both laughed.

\--

There were bits of brain matter in Agent Romanoff's hair, scattered along the tiny street were the remains of a giant millipede recently blown to pieces. Chunks of leg and exoskeleton the size of street lamps and small cars were mixed in with a river of goop. Worst of all was the _smell_ , like a billion squished lady bugs, it crawled into your sinuses and then curled up in your nose to _die_. Natasha flicks at the ends of her hair, Coulson has a feeling that she is annoyed with the length now that it's sodden with unmentionable bits of a monster that no one would ever believe existed.

It was just too 1950s B movie.

"Just tell me I won't have to use the decontamination station." Natasha's catsuit is zipped all the way to the top and the only portions of skin exposed are her hands and face. Unfortunately her hands were covered in goop and her face was splashed with it. His face must have given it away because her eyes narrowed. "Coulson."

Coulson dithered. There were few things which could make him nervous, Romanoff being upset with him was one. Although she was more likely to take her anger out on a punching bag when she was pushed to the edge she had been known to punch back. Although to date she had only punched Barton, jerks, and one memorable occasion, Maria Hill. Knowing what project she was being assigned to soon (and how lucky Stark hadn't known of the millipede attack, the very thought of it caused Coulson to shudder) he was sure that Tony Stark might soon be added to that list. "I'll have a word with cleanup."

In truth it hadn't taken much. They agreed to Natasha washing her extremities and then a clothed spray-down before allowing her on the copter back to base. Barton had shown up by that point and for once he was miraculously the clean one, no speck of goop on him. They all piled into the helicopter and Coulson made sure both of them had their headphones on before he began to talk.

"Agent Romanoff, if you could-"

"Phil." The first time she had ever used his first name and now was when she chose to break it out? Although Coulson could see the point, it shocked him into being quiet and it also carried the weight of her displeasure. "I know it's usually Clint's job to ask for a delay so that he can have a shower-"

"Hey!" Clint protested before one firm feminine hand was placed over his mouth. He rolled his eyes and then scrunched up his nose, apparently the smell of dead millipede still clung to Natasha's skin.

"-however, I am going to ask you if we could postpone this little debriefing until we have returned to SHIELD and I have had a chance to shower and change into clean clothes."

Coulson paused but there was really no question. "Of course. I will be in my office when you are ready to convene the debriefing."

"Thank you." Natasha glanced at Clint and looked like she was considering leaving her hand over his mouth but decided to remove it and settle it in her lap. Clint worked his jaw for a second and licked his lips before he made a disgusted face.

"Man that was vile, and hey, how come I never get to put briefings off? You like her best, don't you?"

"I assure you, Barton, if I could trust you not to run away, I would allow you to put briefings off as well."

\--

In truth, the Stark assignment had not gone as Fury had predicted nor as Coulson would have hoped, he wished he could have been a part of Natasha's debrief on the subject but, well, Mjolnir had required his attention. That assignment had _also_ not gone as Coulson would have hoped. Thor had gone back to Asgard and despite Doctor Foster's continued research into the Einstein-Rosen Bridge (or the bifrost, according to Thor), Coulson was beginning to wonder if Thor would return to them. Fury's ineffable plan was continuing however, Natasha's dislike for Stark had been made a note of in her report and keeping Stark on as a consultant had worked out for the best. They had avoiding Blonsky (what a disaster that would have been) and they were wetting Stark's hunger for media attention. By the time the Avengers were truly formed Stark was going to _want_ to be part of the Avengers Intiative. He might even _ask_ , although Coulson doubted Stark would ever say 'please'.

Coulson leaned back in his chair and waited for Natasha and Clint to show up. He had to stop referring to them by their first names, even in his head. Using last names was dangerous enough but they were only Hawkeye and Black Widow on paper, possibly they would be to the other members of the Avengers. It was hard to think of Steve Rogers in a term other than 'Captain' but then again he was a living (recently defrosted anyway) legend.

The door to his office opened and Natasha entered soon followed by Barton.

"The mission was a success?" Like he wouldn't already have known that. If the mission to acquire Bruce Banner, aka 'the Hulk' had gone bad _everyone_ would have known.

"It went well." Natasha sat down in the chair to Coulson's right, which was different, previously she had always sat to his left and allowed Clint the right hand chair, since her mission with Tony Stark and their trip to New Mexico however she had changed her preference, she had also cut her hair but Coulson doubted that was connected. He still found the newer shorter hair hard to get used to although it was just as attractive as when it was long.

"I didn't get to do _anything_." Clint grumbled as he slumped into his seat. "She managed to talk Banner out of his hidey-hole with nary a green skin cell in sight."

"I am sure you'll get a chance to shoot him, Clint." Whoops, that was out loud wasn't it. Barton was now staring at him with slightly widened eyes and Romanoff was hiding a smile behind her hand. He really had to keep a level of professionalism since he knew if he started down that slippery slope no one else would. "Let's st-"

"You called me Clint!" Barton was waving a finger at him. "I didn't even think you knew my first name."

Oh, now that was just ludicrous, "Barton, of course I know your first name."

"Yeah, but you never use it." Barton attempting to look sly was ridiculous. While he was an excellent undercover agent when he was off the job he had a face you could read like a dime store novel. "Do you know _Tasha's_ name?"

"Barton."

"Nope, that's my last name." Both agents were looking too entertained although he doubted they were smiling for quite the same reasons. "Come on, Coulson, say it."

"Yes, Phil," And didn't he wish that this was another time and place, "say my name."

"Natasha," Coulson gave in to their whims. "Please do not encourage him."

\--

"-and then Stark ran off to invent his new ally…"

"Alloy." Natasha corrected absentmindedly. She glanced up at Coulson over the edge of a book of Sudoku and gave him a 'we saved the world last night can we finish this up smile. Coulson returned the smile with one of his own; 'I would let you leave but the minute Barton is out of sight he will do something stupid'. She nodded at that smile and then dropped her eyes back to the Sudoku.

"Right, that." Barton waved a hand in the air and kept going. "Which of course left _me_ standing there holding the quiver, so to speak-"

The problem wasn't so much that it was far too early on a Tuesday morning for this kind of thing (7:30 and everyone just wanted to tuck themselves back into bed after last night) because Coulson could handle that kind of debriefing. He could handle debriefings after being held hostage, refused food and water, and kept on an irregular sleep schedule for a week. He had heard the rumors spread by innocent and yet still annoying SHIELD probationary officers that he could hold debriefing sessions while climbing Everest or swimming in shark infested waters. So, the problem wasn't preforming a debrief on too little sleep after too much adrenaline. The problem was that both Clint and Natasha had been liberally dusted in something which made them _glitter_ , for lack of a better word. He knew it was a byproduct of whatever Loki had been doing the night before, and knew that they had been checked over before being let out of quarantine but it was… distracting.

"And are we done yet because I want to get out of here and have lots of sex."

Coulson paused in his writing before he glanced up at Barton, even for Clint that had been… forward. Clint looked just as surprised as Coulson felt although Natasha barely looked surprised at all, there had been a _slight_ rise to one eyebrow.

"I thought we were going to wait a week before propositioning Coulson." This time Natasha did looked surprised, she lifted _both_ eyebrows. "I don't know why I just said that."

"Because you were _thinking_ it." Barton appeared mortified as his mouth continued to run away from him. Generally Coulson would have assumed a practical joke was being played but both agents looked so clearly startled by this turn of events that he was willing to entertain other motivations. "And because I want to have a lot of sex with both of you right now. When you're in a room together I can't stop-" Barton placed a hand over his mouth, which muffled the sound but apparently did not stop him speaking.

"As good as you look gagging yourself," Coulson could have lived without those mental images to haunt him through the nights, "I don't think that will work well in the long run." Natasha stood up and grabbed Clint. "I think we had best get to medical before you tell him about your long running fantasies of sucking him off under his desk." She was a little more delicate about gagging herself with her own hand than Barton had been.

Since apparently Natasha's comment called for recourse Clint let his hand drop "At least I don't dream about having sex with him on top of paperwork!"

Coulson had perfected the non-reaction but all of this had even _him_ flushing. "Both of you! Medical! Now!"

Before the door shut Coulson heard Barton say; "I find it disturbingly sexy when he orders me around…"

"I know, Clint."

\--

After that incident Coulson had done his best to avoid Barton and Romanoff, no one was entirely sure how reliable the 'truth powder' (no one could come up with a better word) had been as it seemed to cause each of the exposed Avengers extremely honest in a humiliating way. Stark had spent half an hour talking about how much he had loved Captain America as a child and how impressive Steve was and how blue Cap's eyes were, Thor had thankfully been with Jane when the powder kicked in, Coulson had sent Darcy a note and avoided that debacle altogether. After getting checked by medical (and Coulson had been sure that the security footage as well as any doctor's 'notes' on what Barton and Romanoff had said had mysteriously disappeared) Hawkeye and Black Widow had holed themselves up in their quarters and refused to come out until whatever had been used on them had worn off.

Coulson had handed their debriefing off to someone else and then had somehow managed to avoid them for the rest of the week. On anyone else it would have been impressive but Coulson had a knack for not being where people would be looking for him when he didn't want to be found. Not that there hadn't been a few close calls, Barton had leaped down three flights of stairs in an attempt to catch him and he'd almost been pinned down by agent Romanoff in the car park. His office was, of course, not safe but he managed to get paperwork done anyway. Given that the one time he could be found at his apartment for extended periods of time was Sunday Coulson should not have been surprised that when he arrived there on a Friday (switching it up to throw barton and Romanoff off) he was ambushed.

"Told you he'd be home tonight." Clint said around his mouthful of jacket, he had one arm pinning Coulson to the wall while Romanoff divested him of his handful of weapons (he carried the bare minimum for a SHIELD agent but since he was trained in using anything as an offensive weapon he managed to get out of difficult situations just fine).

"Congratulations, Clint, have a cookie." Natasha finished searching him and then Coulson found himself escorted to his own couch. It wasn't a terribly comfortable couch but neither was it terribly uncomfortable, it managed to fall into the Goldilocks zone of couches. It had, of course, come with the apartment. "Phil, we've come to discuss what happened last week."

"So I gathered." He straightened his suit jacket before leaning back. There was a gun under the cushions, of course, although Natasha and Clint had no doubt searched the apartment after they had bypassed his security system. Had they had help with that? "I hold nothing you say against you…"

"Bullshit." Barton crossed his arms and kicked the couch. When Coulson gave him a mild look he scuffed his shoe across the carpet and looked faintly guilty. "You've been avoiding us, if you didn't care you wouldn't have _rappelled down from the helipad to your office to avoid us_."

Alright, that had been a bit extreme.

"Be that as it may…"

"Phil," Natasha began, Barton said "Coulson," at the same time, after a glance at each other they both said; "Sir," in tandem. There was some glaring then, primarly from Barton who eventually bowed his head and yielded Natasha the right of way.

"Sir, if you feel the need to report us for harassment we do not blame you." That sounded very businesslike, so of course it had to be Romanoff who said it.

"And we'll even stop talking about you during kinky sex games." Which, of course, was Barton. Natasha casually smacked Clint up the back of his head and then for good measure elbowed him in his solar plexus. Clint went down to his knees as he gasped for breath.

Which of course placed him on his knees, panting for breath, right in front of Coulson. It was a little hard keeping a professional demeanor at that. "What the two of you do in the privacy of your-"

"Phil," Natasha's smoky bedroom voice had been known to feature heavily in the fantasies of warm blooded heterosexual males, homosexual females, and bisexuals of both genders, never let it be said that Coulson had never noticed it. It was hard not to notice it when it was being breathed into his ear. "You haven't told us to stop and we say we were going to proposition you."

"In a week." Barton must have gotten his breath back, which was a shame. "And hey look, it's been a week."

He was still on his knees though. Coulson reached up and loosened his tie which Natasha apparently took as permission to remove his tie completely.

"Call it off, Phil, tell us to leave or that you're not interested and we'll go." Natasha's breath was hot in his ear, her tongue flickered over the rim. "Or tell us to slow down and we'll wait."

"We've been waiting for a while." Clint's hands were on his _knees_ , Natasha's were on his shoulders, and Coulson had never been particularly religious or one to use a deity's name in vein but dear god he was not sure he could handle this. Being trapped between them was every dirty fantasy he had not allowed himself to have, it was every moment he had repressed when he saw them kiss, or take down a target. It was watching Romanoff train in the gym and the thrill he got when she wrapped her legs around some opponent's neck and it was watching the tension in Barton's arm as he pulled back the string on his bow and the look on his face when he gave the arrow release.

What was Clint saying? "We can wait, you know, another month or so." The look on Barton's face was insouciant but as he was sliding Coulson's leg open a little wider and kneeling between them Phil believed he could forgive him.

"I don't think Phil's the kind of man who puts out on a first date, Clint." Natasha slipped over the back of the couch to sit beside Phil, she kept one hand on him at all times, now it was sliding through what little hair nature and Nick Fury had left him. "Not like some people."

"You know, you put out on the first date too." Clint complained. He was almost close enough to kiss now but their bickering was going to give Coulson a headache if it went on much longer.

He knew if he let them get started the bickering wouldn't end until dawn broke and he definitely had better plans for the night than mediating an argument. "Most people would not consider taking down a warehouse full of terrorists and subsequently being recruited into a top secret government organization a date." He wrapped an arm around Natasha's waist and placed a hand on Clint's shoulder before he leaned over to kiss first one then the other.

It was the first time (hopefully of many) that Barton and Romanoff got to debrief _him_.


End file.
